Intervention
by MegaOtaku777
Summary: Sour Cream hasn't been acting quite right for a while, and Buck and Jenny are determined to help him, no matter how much he fights it. Rated M for blood, self-harm, depression, and anorexia.


WARNING: THIS ONE-SHOT DEALS WITH DEPRESSION, SELF-HARM, ANOREXIA, AND BLOOD. IF YOU ARE DISTURBED BY ANY OF THESE THINGS, PLEASE DON'T READ; I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE HURT.

Anyway, this is a fic that takes place when Sour Cream, Jenny, and Buck are in high school in their senior year. And yes, as Sour Cream isn't really a legal name, I imagine that his birth-name is Arthur. Just go with it. And I hope you all enjoy it.

Intervention

Sour Cream was stretched languidly in bed, orange boxer shorts barely visible under a baggy t-shirt. His hair was a mess of white curls spread out all over the pillow. His lanky limbs were nearly numb from inactivity, and frankly, he wanted it to stay that way. There was nothing Sour Cream cherished more than lying in bed all day long, staring at nothing and doing nothing. Unfortunately, that wasn't at all possible. He had made plans for that day, and Buck and Jenny were going to have his head if he canceled again.

He rolled out of bed, his knobby knees stinging as they scraped the floor. There was nearly no visible carpet in the room anymore underneath all the clutter and discarded clothes, but somehow he'd still managed to injure himself.

Like always.

Sour Cream shook those thoughts from his head, yanking on an over-sized sweater and his favorite zippered cargos. The clothes were a bit worn and stained, but they felt…comfortable. Like home. A safe zone in a world that was anything but.

He rummaged around his sock drawer for a moment, his hand bumping into something. He pulled out the small wooden box, guilt stinging at his heart. With another swift shake of the head, he stuffed the box back in the drawer, exchanging it for a pair of socks. He wouldn't need his box today; today was supposed to be a happy day. The razors would wait until he needed them. They always did.

After runny skinny fingers through knotted hair, Sour Cream made his way downstairs, trying not to disturb his step-father in the next room. It was Yellowtail's off-week, so of course he spent the whole time sleeping. Sour Cream wouldn't mind it if it was just sleeping that he did; after all, everyone needs a little rest. But when he wasn't sleeping, he was lecturing Sour Cream about the future. Or his apparent lack of one. Sour Cream was only in high school, but Yellowtail seemed intent on having him decide exactly what he was going to do in the future. Yellowtail was probably a good guy deep down, but he had this idea of what people were supposed to be. And Sour Cream didn't fit that mold. Not that he even knew what kind of mold he fit.

The stairs creaked under his feet as he made his way into the kitchen. Onion waved to him from the table, a couple puzzles spread out before the toddler, the pieces all mixed up.

"Hey buddy," Sour Cream chirped as cheerily as he could, ruffling Onion's hair affectionately. "Might be a little hard to figure out with the pieces mixed up like that." Onion just shrugged, returning to the task at hand. "I get it," Sour Cream chuckled, noticing the neglected plate of waffles Vidalia had made for the youngest. "You didn't eat again, huh?" Onion just nodded, not looking up. "I get that too." His tone dropped, but his face was neutral.

A piece of paper covered in their mom's handwriting caught his attention.

 _Hey, Arthur. I had to leave early for an art gallery event a couple towns over. Be back later. Love you. xoxo_

He winced at the name used; his birth name had always just felt odd. He must preferred the nickname Buck and Jenny had given him, but he couldn't tell his mom that. Who really wanted a son who didn't like his own name?

Grabbing a pen and paper, Sour Cream scribbled a quick note to their mom.

 _Meeting up with Buck and Jenny. Be back later. Love ya_

Leaving the note on the counter next to the first, Sour Cream headed for the door, only to be stopped by a very stern-looking toddler. "What's up, bud?" Sour Cream asked, trying to keep his tone light. Onion just glared at him, thrusting a waffle into his face.

Sour Cream recoiled, his stomach churning in disgust. Syrup dripped from the pastry onto the floor, a golden honey colour than only made him want to vomit. "I'm good, thanks," Sour Cream forced out, trying not to make such an obvious run for the door. "I'm gonna go hang out with Buck and Jenny at the pizza shop. See you later, Onion."

However, the child merely stepped in his path, giving them a stern glare. Sour Cream tried his best to put on a warm smile, bending down to be eye-level with his brother. "Thanks for thinking about me, bud. I'll grab something to eat later, 'kay?" The lie tasted of acid and bile as it slipped out, but Onion just nodded solemnly, running his tongue along the waffle's side. Sour Cream chuckled, patting Onion's head one more time before walking out the door and into town.

With a lowered head and earbuds firmly lodged in their ears, Sour Cream trudged down the sidewalk, trying to ignore the warm Saturday sun. It was always too warm in that town. Always too sunny. The others seemed to love the weather, but Sour Cream just wanted a little rain every once in a while. Rain was clean. Uncomplicated. Cold. Everything he loved, even if that was a remarkably short list.

Sour Cream eventually made it to Fish Stew Pizza. He often wondered why anyone chose to eat there with a name like that. The name couple with the fact that their most popular topping was anchovies should have driven people away. But the intoxicating aroma that wafted through the open door was enough to answer his question. A sharp pain in his stomach nearly made him falter, but he ignored it. He were used to it by now.

"Sour Cream!"

In his panic he couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, and he tried to duck into his hoodie. He instinctively pulled down the sweater sleeves, intense fear flooding through his mind. A crashing weight barreled into his back between his shoulders, sending him stumbling. Jenny, the lanky but well-proportioned force of nature caught him before he hit the ground, enveloping him in a hug. "You made it!" she squealed, taking him by the hand and tugging him into the building. "Got you good, didn't I?" She grinned mischievously, ignoring the stares of customers.

Sour Cream tried to make himself smaller, but there wasn't much he could do aside from keeping his eyes fixed to the ground. He could practically feel everyone staring, judging, and he had to restrain himself from running for the door.

"Buck~!" Jenny shouted across the restaurant, prompting a blush to creep up Sour Cream's cheeks. "Look who actually showed up!"

Buck, the stocky yet built son of the mayor, slid his shades down his nose, reclining in his chair in the corner. "Hey, man. Long time no see." Buck pulled out the chair next to him, gesturing for the pair to sit. Jenny practically threw him in the seat, taking one on the opposite side of the table.

Sour Cream tried to smile at his boyfriend and girlfriend. He knew they didn't mean to be so rough with him; Jenny had a habit of getting a little excited that Buck balanced out really well with his laid-back demeanor, and Buck tended to be quiet, something that Jenny made up for. Sour Cream knew he was more than lucky to have these two people as partners, and he did his best to sit up straighter, to not let them know anything was wrong.

"So where have you been?" Buck asked, sipping idly at a Coke while one of his hands curled around Sour Cream's fingers.

"Yeah, we've been trying to hang out with you, but you've been really busy lately."

 _Not just lately._ "Sorry guys; stuff at home."

Buck and Jenny nodded sagely, knowing full well what he meant. The trio sat in silence for a few moments, Jenny picking at the tablecloth and Buck stirring ice around with a straw. Sour Cream couldn't help but feel like something was…off about them. Jenny was rarely ever so quiet, and Buck never avoided eye contact. It was just a part of who they were. The nagging feeling in Sour Cream's mind flourished in the silence, turning to doubt and paranoia. Were they hiding something from him? What were they keeping secret? The trio had only been dating for a few months, but Buck and Jenny were normally so open with him. What had changed?

His heart dropped as a new thought occurred to him: were they breaking up with him? Cutting him out of the relationship? Had they realized what he was and decided to toss him out like the trash he was? As depressing as those thoughts were, a small part of him realized that they would be much happier without him. Sour Cream knew he tended to be depressing and anti-social; he was nothing more than a burden on his partners. He knew it was the smart thing to do, but the idea of Buck and Jenny dumping him was too much to bear.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Jenny voice cut through Sour Cream's thoughts, and he suddenly realized he was dangerously close to crying. Buck put a hand on his shoulder and Jenny cupped his face from across the table, her brown eyes searching his blue ones. Sour Cream shook his head, trying to quickly wipe his face on his sweater sleeve. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just…not feeling good."

Jenny sat back, folding her arms and studying the lanky boy. He squirmed under her gaze, but she lightened up with a smile. "No problem. After we eat, we can head over to my place; I've got some Tylenol in the cupboard that should help." She waved Kiki over. Kiki nodded briefly before emerging from behind the counter, balancing three plates of pizza and some drinks on a tray.

Sour Cream's stomach dropped. The food smelled delicious, and his stomach was aching with hunger, but he couldn't help but feel nauseous. He had been doing so well over the past few weeks; he'd cut down his intake considerably and had been able to fool his family into thinking he'd been eating. He couldn't just give up now.

Sour Cream pushed his plate away, trying to look disinterested. "I'm not really hungry, but thanks." Just then, his stomach growled loudly, turning the heads of both teenagers at the table. He flushed a deep red, avoiding their gazes.

"Looks like your stomach doesn't think so," Buck chuckled, taking another bite.

"Hurry up and eat, Sour Cream. It's good~." She held her own slice in front of his face, waving it back and forth before taking a large chunk out of the crust.

"Thanks, but I'm good. I just ate before I came here." The lie just slipped out unbidden. Those words had passed his lips so many times that the phrase was as common to him as breathing. Jenny and Buck peered at him skeptically, clearly not buying his excuse.

"One slice, then we'll go." Jenny pushed Sour Cream's plate back towards him, adopting an expression that told Sour Cream there was no getting around it. The boy gulped nervously, picking up the fast food with distaste. He hated the greasy feeling of the cheese on his fingers, and the stench of pepperoni sent his already-empty stomach rolling. He pushed all thoughts from his mind, forcing himself to bite, chew, swallow, bite chew swallow, bite, chew swallow. This routine lasted long enough for him to polish off one slice of pizza and a glass of water. The taste still lingered in his mouth, making him cringe every time he moved his tongue. Sour Cream nearly jumped out of his seat, failing at being inconspicuous.

"I have to use the bathroom real quick."

Before he could leave, Jenny grabbed his hand. He nearly missed the frantic panic on her face before she covered it up with a smile. "No problem, you can go at my place. It's not that far. Coming, Buck?" Buck nodded, following behind Sour Cream as Jenny dragged him out the door.

Sour Cream's stomach was flipping with anxiety. He couldn't wait to go to the bathroom. He had to get rid of that disgusting food as soon as possible. He couldn't do it at Jenny's house; what if they heard him? What if he couldn't get it all out? How they still love him after finding out?

These questions swirled about in his mind as Buck and Jenny chatted merrily, strolling casually down the block.

..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..

As soon as they entered Jenny's room, Sour Cream knew something was wrong. It wasn't until Jenny locked to door behind them that he began to worry.

"W-what's going on, guys?" he stuttered, eyeing his partners warily.

"I'm gonna be real with you, dude. We've been worried about you." Buck was lounging on the bed behind him, his face turned towards the ceiling, but Sour Cream could feel his gaze through the sun glasses.

"You've been avoiding us, you haven't been eating, and I can guarantee you've been losing more weight that you should be. So you're going to tell us what's going on." Jenny adopted a no-nonsense tone, mimicking Buck's stance.

Sour Cream felt himself shrinking into his hoodie. Buck and Jenny, the last two people he actually felt somewhat normal around, had decided to turn on him. He tried to stop the panic from rising in his throat. "What do you mean? There's nothing wrong?" The smile twisted into his face felt all wrong, and his partners shared a quick glance before shaking their heads, almost like they'd expected a lie.

"Take off your hoodie." Jenny folded her arms across her chest, thrusting out one hip.

Sour Cream recoiled, clutching the fabric to his chest. "N-no!"

"I'm sorry, but this is for your own good." She nodded behind him, and suddenly another pair of hands were upon him, tugging the fabric over his head before he could stop them, his t-shirt coming off with it.

"Buck, what are you doing!?" Sour Cream shrieked, trying to twist away from his attacker and snatch back his clothes. "Give those back!" His arms went defensively to his midsection, not wanting the others to see his fat. His disgrace. He backed himself into a corner, trying to hide as much of his body as possible with the walls.

"Give it back, Buck. Please." Sour Cream could feel the tears of desperation welling up in his eyes, but Buck merely looked away, not wanting to witness the pain he had caused. "Why are you guys doing this to me?" Hot droplets began to carve their way down his face, his heart speeding up in a panic.

"Sour Cream, look at these." Jenny crouched down in front of his face, turning his hands palms-up and exposing the pale flesh on his forearms. White lines, some large and some as skinny as a sliver, lined his skin, crisscrossing and weaving together in some sort of twisted grid. Some were old, nearly-disappeared, but there were a few still red and raw.

Jenny's face reflected her hurt and her pain as she held Sour Cream's gaze. Before her was a hurting, starving boy. His stomach was practically concave, every bone visible through thinly-stretched skin. His frantic heartbeat was visibly pounding underneath is fragile ribcage, and blood began to seep out of old wounds that had been ripped back open. "This is why we're doing this. We're trying to help you, sweetie."

Sour Cream yanked his arm back, curling it against his chest and screwing his eyes shut. His life was over. The last two people who truly loved him would now be so overcome with disgust that they would never speak to him again. His family would disown him. He'd never see his mom or his brother ever again. Not that they'd want to anyway. Maybe, just maybe, if he closed his eyes and prayed to every god in the universe, one of them would strike him down. Then his pathetic life would be over.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. "Baby, open your eyes." A soft hand caressed his face, brushing loose strands of white hair from his eyes. Sour Cream's eyes fluttered open, Jenny and Buck barely visible through the tears.

"Give me back my hoodie," he whimpered, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"We can't do that, man," Buck sighed, tossing the clothes to the other side of the room.

Without warning, Sour Cream sprang up, rage in his eyes. "Why are you doing this to me!?" He tried to fight his way across the room, but Buck and Jenny pushed against him, their strength more than enough for his emaciated form. They tried pushing him back as gingerly as possible, but Sour Cream pushed right back, a manic glint in his eye. Buck and Jenny backed up enough to give him room to breathe but not enough room to run.

"Sour Cream…" Jenny's words were slow. Careful. "You're very important to us. We just don't want to see you hurting."

"Well, what if I deserve it!?" His voice was frantic now, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I let you guys down all the time, my step-dad is always disappointed in me, and I can't seem to do anything right for my mom. She works so hard, and I can't even seem to pass my classes, let alone decide what where my life is going! My own father didn't even want to be around me! What right do I have to be happy!?" His throat was raw with screaming and his head swam, but he didn't care anymore. "Someone like me deserves to be hurting! I deserve this!" He dug his fingernails into his forearms, little dots of blood springing to the surface. The fingernails drug down the skin, ripping the wounds even further until blood began running down in rivulets.

"SC!" Buck yelled, wrapping his arms around the skinny boy from behind. "Stop!"

"Let go of me!" he shrieked, kicking and struggling against Buck's hold.

"Buck, don't let go." Again, Jenny's voice was surprisingly calm as she approached the struggling teenager, her hands up in defense. "Sour Cream, listen to me."

Sour Cream tried to shout, but all that came out were garbled noises of frustration. Why were they trying to help him? Didn't they know how messed up he was? How mangled and twisted his mind was? Why were they even bothering with him anymore? Did they like seeing him suffer?

His mind halted its frantic reeling when two soft, sturdy hands rested on his cheeks, keeping his head still with gentle pressure. "Look at me in the eyes."

Sour Cream tried to struggle, but all of the energy had fled his body, leaving him empty of fight. His gaze slid to the floor, not wanting Jenny to see his shame, but she forced his face upwards, locking their gazes.

"I know you're hurting. I know you think that you're constantly messing up, and that you don't matter. But think about it: why do you think Buck and I are here, doing all this for you?" She gently brushed away his tears with her thumb, her bright brown eyes shining with heartbreak. Behind him, he could feel Buck resting his cheek on Sour Cream's spine, Buck's tears wetting his skin.

"It's because we love you," Buck mumbled against his shoulder blade, sending vibrations through Sour Cream's very bones. "We hate to see you hurting like this, and we want to help."

"But you have to let us," Jenny insisted, resting her forehead against his and rubbing their noses together. "I know it feels like you're alone right now. But you're not. You never were."

She pressed a kiss to his lips, Buck mimicking the gesture on his bare shoulder.

Sour Cream could feel his mental walls crumbling. He tried to put them back up, slap them together as quickly as he could, remind himself why he was despicable, but every gesture and touch from Buck and Jenny disintegrated his defenses faster than he could rebuild. Tears began to pour down has face, whimpers and cries slipping past his lips. He felt his body crumple, his legs giving out from under him. Buck and Jenny gently surrounded him, supporting and slowing his fall to the floor. Two pairs of arms enveloped him, two pairs of legs curled around his own, and two pairs of lips whispered kind words until those were the only things he could hear.

Buck strained his ears as Sour Cream started mumbling into his hands, his frail shoulders trembling. "What's that, baby?" He leaned over, trying to catch his fractured phrases.

"I'm sorry…"

"No reason to be," Buck assured, rubbing soothing circles on Sour Cream's back.

"I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry, so sorry…"

"It's okay. We're here for you." Jenny smiled, noticing that his tears were starting to subside. The two teenagers stroked the broken boy's hair, kissed his scars, and mumbled "it's okay" more times than they could count. Eventually, Sour Cream nodded off, slumping against Buck, small whimpers still escaping.

Wordlessly, Buck lifted Sour Cream onto the bed, curling up behind him and wrapping his arms firmly around the teenager's too-skinny waist. Jenny disappeared from the room for a moment, returning with antiseptic wipes, some gauze bandages, and a fleece penguin blanket. She knelt down beside her boyfriend, gingerly taking his damaged arms in her unsteady hands.

"He'll be fine," Buck assured her, sending her a quick smile. Jenny nodded, wiping away the excess blood and wrapping the wounds tightly. It was the work of only a few minutes, but the time seemed to stretch on as Jenny contemplated the future. How long would it take Sour Cream to heal, both physically and emotionally? They had dared to step across a very private line; was there any coming back from it? Was this really helping their dear friend, or hurting him?

Sour Cream mumbled something in his sleep, snapping Jenny out of her trance. She quickly tossed the used wiped in the trash, made sure that the bandages wouldn't come undone while Sour Cream slept, and threw the blanket over her boyfriends, curling up next to the lanky teenager.

As Jenny's mind began to drift, a small spark of fear settled in her stomach. She knew this battle was far from over. They'd been able to rescue Sour Cream from the edge, but could they pull him all the way back?

Buck squeezed her hand gently, and she relaxed. No matter how long this battle would be, she was willing to fight it. And she wouldn't be fighting it alone.


End file.
